


Some Had Scars And Some Had Scratches

by allisonmartined



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonmartined/pseuds/allisonmartined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison centric ; <i>Do you think I'm a monster?</i> he whispers into her skin, and she says <i>No</i>, lies because the lie is easier than the truth that twists itself around her insides, makes her squirm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Had Scars And Some Had Scratches

She can feel it in the palm of her hand, in her wrists, in the beating of her heart.

It is like acid in her veins, the Hunter's blood, reminding her who she is, who she will always be.

Her nails cut into her palms, into the flat vulnerable middle.  The blood is soft and warm and red.  And it's a relief.  

 

 _Do you think I'm a monster?_ he whispers into her skin, and she says _No_ , lies because the lie is easier than the truth that twists itself around her insides, makes her squirm.

 

Sometimes she thinks her blood is silver, the wolves' death shiny and bright under her skin.

 

She clings to Stiles mentally, like they share some strong bond that can never be unbroken.  And they do.  It's written in their eyes.   _Human_ , like the black mark it is.

 

It doesn't really make sense.  Scott kisses her, all tentative lips and grinning eyes and she thinks she can see love there in the lines around his eyes, in the movement of his hair, in his hands.  He anchors her, makes her feel _safe_

 

and her blood _screams_.

 

She's pretty sure Lydia is the smartest person she has ever met, with her perfectly sculpted disguise and knowing eyes.  She knows the knowledge, the things she doesn't know she knows, the _wolves_ , thrum in the back of her mind, waiting to be let loose.  

 

Sometimes, she sees the wolf behind Lydia's eyes, _waiting_ , and it makes her squirm with all of it's calculating white hot fury.

 

The bow in her hand feels like home and sometimes the trees feel like they are her's too.  But they are also their's, the _wolves_ , and sometimes she thinks the trees connect them more than Scott's lips against her skin ever will.

 

She can feel the weight of the world between her and Derek, it weighs on them, her aunt's name spelled in the dirt between them.  She shouldn't care, she _shouldn't_ , but it doesn't stop her from wanting to scrub the blood from her hands.  Sometimes the screams wake her up at night, fill her head, and sometimes they sound too much like Kate's laugh ringing in her ears.

 

Her arrows sail through the air, and pierce flesh, blood scenting the air.  

 

She knows what it is to have death and life in the palm of her hand, in the flex of her arm, in the squeeze of her fingers.

 

That's what being a Hunter is, she knows.

 

Blood like silver.


End file.
